This is really over-dramatic. My boss was being a jerk so I wrote this.
He comes into the room
My stomach is in knots
I am tense
My eyes fill before he even speaks
His words pierce my soul
They break my spirit
He leaves before he knows the damage he’s caused
Or worse, perhaps he leaves with a full understanding.
The joy that was mine
Has been suffocated
He has stolen it for his own.
Passion and energy that I once possessed
What seems a lifetime ago
Sneak into my mind and I remember
I remember the unfiltered thoughts
And the ignored warnings from logic
The passion, the energy
I remember them well
They were undirected and foolish, of course
I remember them.
The joy that was mine
Has been suffocated
He has stolen it for his own.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Lauren, first, I'm sorry about this situation with your boss! Second, I know the feeling. How often do we have joy robbed from us. We are left there, limp, nearly lifeless...does there person care? Did they get joy by robbing us? Great post. a testiment that writing in all moods can prove to be passionate!
love, deAnn
Post a Comment